Chapter 509: Allies Within the Enemy Formation

We climbed about eighty meters and entered the true no‑man's land. The craters here are deeper; some hold murky rainwater, with oil slicks, torn cloth and unidentified fragments floating on the surface. The stench of rot in the air grows stronger, so strong it makes one gag.

Li Chengcan suddenly stopped and raised his fist. Everyone immediately dropped prone, motionless.

Jin Shunzhi pressed his ear to listen. Besides the wind, there was… a metallic scraping sound? Very faint, but definitely present. And a murmur, not English, not French—

It was German.

Li Chengcan pointed toward the eleven‑o'clock direction. Jin Shunzhi squinted, straining to adjust to the darkness. There lay a partially collapsed trench parapet, which should have been a Degjun forward position before artillery shattered it. Now, a faint glow seeps from behind the parapet—not a lamp, more like… a fire?

The two exchanged a glance and nodded. Captain Park signaled, and three squads flanked from different directions.

The closer we climbed, the clearer the sound. It was German, low‑voice chatter, plus the clatter of metal tin cans. More than one person—at least four or five. They seemed seated inside a makeshift shelter of canvas and planks, with a small stove in the middle, a weak light leaking through the cracks.

The smell of food lingered—stewed meat? —and tobacco.

Is it a Degjun patrol? Or a forward observation post?

Li Chengcan had already felt within five meters behind the shelter. He drew his bayonet, held it reverse‑handed, and gave Jin Shunzhi a "prepare" signal.

At that moment, laughter erupted from the shelter. A German soldier said something in German, then another began to sing—a victory song, its tune lively and rugged.

Jin Shunzhi couldn't understand the lyrics, but could hear the joy and relaxation in the singing. These Germans were celebrating the North Sea victory, gathered around the stove in a relatively safe shelter, eating hot food and singing.

And they—twenty soldiers from Cao County—lay prone in the icy mud, waiting to charge to their deaths.

Unfair.

The thought sprang up suddenly, so intense it surprised even him. Why could those people celebrate while they were destined to die? Why were Germans, British, and Sakura Nation folk all using their lives to play a game?

Li Chengcan glanced back at him, his eyes reflecting the same thing. Yet he still raised his hand, ready to signal the charge.

At that moment, a sentence Jin Shunzhi could understand came from the shelter.

It wasn't German; it was Japanese.

"The victory of the German Reich is also the victory of all of us!"

A precise, rounded Tokyo accent. Then a burst of echoing laughter—both German laughter and Japanese laughter.

Jin Shunzhi was stunned. Sakura Nation soldiers inside the shelter? Together with Germans?

Li Chengcan also heard it, his hand frozen mid‑air. The two exchanged a quick glance: what now? The plan was to reconnoiter the Degjun position, but if there were Sakura Nation officers inside…

Captain Park, on the other side, also heard it; he gestured, asking: proceed?

Li Chengcan hesitated. His bayonet emitted a faint cold glint in the darkness. Jin Shunzhi could feel his breathing grow heavy—that was a sign of anger.

The conversation inside the shelter continued. Now it was clear: a Sakura Nation person was speaking broken German, while several Germans laughed, correcting his pronunciation. The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful, like a friends' gathering.

"…so, the key is still the fire‑control system," the Sakura Nation voice said, "our navy also needs that technology."

A German replied something, speaking too fast for Jin Shunzhi to catch, but the tone was clearly smug.

Then the Sakura Nation voice again: "Captain Aoki asked me to convey the schedule for next week's rotation…"

Captain Aoki.

Jin Shunzhi felt his heart slam. He recalled the excitement of daytime at the British Army position when Second Lieutenant Watanabe handed out leaflets. He remembered those Sakura Nation officers celebrating the German victory. Now, he heard a Sakura Nation officer on a Degjun position, discussing military intelligence with the Germans.

They were swapping intelligence—trading frontline soldiers' lives for personal credit.

Li Chengcan moved suddenly. Not a charge, but a retreat backward. He signaled Captain Park: withdraw.

Captain Park hesitated a moment, then immediately obeyed. The three squads began to crawl back along the same route, very carefully.

After climbing over a hundred meters and regrouping in a huge crater, Captain Park lowered his voice and asked, "Why withdraw? They're few; we could take them."

"There are Sakura Nation people inside," Li Chengcan said.

"So what? Capture them all together!"

"Capture them, then what?" Li Chengcan's voice was as cold as ice. "Take them back to Second Lieutenant Watanabe? He'll claim we attacked 'allies' and have us all killed. Or worse— that Sakura Nation officer might be high‑ranking; if we move against him, everyone will die."

Captain Park fell silent. He was right. Attacking Sakura Nation personnel, even those mingling with the Germans behind enemy lines, is a capital offense.

"What do we do now?" a young soldier asked, voice trembling, "Go back empty‑handed; Second Lieutenant Watanabe won't let us off."

"Not empty‑handed." Li Chengcan fished a small notebook and pencil from his chest—something he insisted on bringing, saying "intelligence is more useful than bullets." Using the faint light filtering from the crater's edge, he quickly jotted a few lines.

"They're discussing next week's rotation schedule and the positions of several left‑flank fire points," Li Chengcan handed the notebook to Captain Park, "I've recorded it. That's enough for the report."

Captain Park took the notebook; though he couldn't read German, he trusted Li Chengcan. "Do you understand German?"

"I understand some," Li Chengcan tucked the pencil away, "I attended a church school in Hansong, taught by German missionaries."

Jin Shunzhi watched Li Chengcan. The scholar always managed to devise a plan. This time, however, he sensed something burning deep within Li Chengcan's gaze—not a will to survive, but something else, darker.

The squad began to withdraw. This time they moved more cautiously, fearing they might alert the enemy. Yet the singing inside the shelter continued, the stove's glow still faint—those men clearly hadn't noticed the danger that had just been so close.

Climbing back into their own trench at eleven‑thirty at night, Second Lieutenant Watanabe was indeed waiting at the launch position, his expression unfriendly.

"How's it going?"

Captain Park stood at attention and reported, "We discovered a Degjun forward observation post, containing five to six people, including a Sakura Nation liaison officer. To avoid friendly fire, we did not capture them, but we obtained the sector rotation intelligence."

He handed Li Chengcan's notebook over. Second Lieutenant Watanabe took it and, by the light of the lantern, skimmed it quickly, his expression softening slightly.

"Sakura Nation liaison officer? Are you sure?"

"Confirmed. He spoke Japanese with a Tokyo accent and mentioned 'Captain Aoki'."

Watanabe's brows furrowed at the name. He pondered briefly, slipped the notebook into his pocket. "Good job. Attacking allies is a grave taboo. The intelligence… I'll forward it to superiors. Go rest."

He didn't even ask about casualties, nor mention any reward of bread.

The squad disbanded, each returning to their defensive gun‑holes. Jin Shunzhi and Li Chengcan walked side by side, their shoulders occasionally brushing in the narrow trench.

Crawling into the hole, Li Chengcan finally spoke, his voice so low it was almost inaudible: "That Sakura Nation person—did you recognize who it was?"

Jin Shunzhi shook his head.